Elite: The Satellite Trilogy Part II

by Lee Davidson

  “Take it easy, boys,” Whitfield says to Lawson and me as she follows Max out.

  Not five minutes later, Max comes back through the front door with a handful of bags, but it’s not Whitfield who accompanies him this time. Ugh. This day just keeps getting better and better.

  “What are you doing here? Where’s Whitfield?” I demand.

  “That’s Ryan, not Max,” Lawson mumbles from the other side of the living room.

  Before Janine and a thinner woman I assume to be Nancy come through the door, the light bulb blinks on in my dumb head. Sure, now the twin brothers decide to have the same haircut. Whatever I did to piss off the powers that be must have been bad because here stands Elliott, seemingly employed as Ryan’s Satellite.

  After glaring at me in disbelief for ten full seconds, Elliot crosses the room and slouches in the corner on the far wall by the window.

  I plunk down in the hallway where I can see Meggie, but be out of Elliott’s sight, though probably not off his mind. I decide against laughing at Lawson, crammed into the dainty, pink chair, since the current mood is even darker than his ebony skin.

  Ryan gives up on small talk and sits on the floor at Meggie’s feet while Janine and Nancy busy themselves with de-tagging new clothes for Meggie and Brody. When the women are finished, Janine sits on the other side of Meggie and Nancy settles on the floor beside Ryan. For the next hour, the unhappy group gives Lawson, Elliott and I more job security than we could ever want.

  When Ryan finally leaves, Elliott says goodbye to Lawson and walks past me like I don’t exist.

  I mull over a way to make amends with him until Meggie begins questioning Brody about how the fire could have started. The conversation quickly morphs into in a full-blown cage match between the two, which ends when Brody storms out of the house. Lawson sighs and follows without a word.

  Just when I was certain my muscles couldn’t ache anymore, a half-dozen more blocks are needed to calm Meggie down.

  A little after two a.m., the sound of sloppy singing comes from outside.

  Crap.

  Unmoving from her position on the pink chair, a china doll compared to when burly Lawson sat in the same place, Meggie opens her eyes three seconds before Brody enters the house. Lawson looks almost as bad as Brody when he stumbles in, but Lawson is still mostly coherent…and standing. Brody, on the other hand—

  “He’s been at the bar,” Lawson says like I really needed the explanation. The fumes radiating from Brody’s pores would be enough to intoxicate even the most professional of alcoholics.

  “Obviously,” I say under my breath while I stand, and grit my teeth in preparation for what is to come.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Meggie’s tired voice says.

  “Hey baaaaby!” Brody trips and smashes into the wall, taking one of the pictures down with him. I wish he would knock them all off; at least then something good would come out of his drunken stupor.

  Meggie gets up from the chair and catches Brody before he crashes into the end table, then helps maneuver his leaden body to the pink chair.

  He pulls her down on his lap.

  “Did you hear about my boy?” he slurs. “He buuurrrrnnn-da.”

  “Oh, come on!” I yell while, behind me, Lawson gives the order that better shut the drunk up.

  Meggie yanks free from Brody’s grasp. “Damn you! Getting wasted isn’t going to help!”

  He points a limp finger at her and spits through his words. “You know what you need? You need a drink, baby. Takes the edge off.” His eyes roll behind his lids. When his enlarged pupils reappear he says, “Did you hear about my boy?”

  “Make him shut up,” I growl to Lawson.

  “I’m trying!” Lawson says and gives the order again.

  “Just pass out already,” Meggie hisses and disappears down the hall.

  A minute later, Lawson and I are still both at a loss for words when Brody somehow plucks himself from the chair. He takes one step and collapses onto the floor. Lawson and I stay frozen for a few seconds before our tense shoulders fall into a more relaxed state.

  Lawson is disgusted. “He gives new meaning to the word ‘bombed’.”

  “Should we do something?”

  “Are you kidding? He shut up, didn’t he?”

  Brody lets out a snore that is loud enough to give Ryder a run for his money and then a series of chainsaw grumbles fall into a pattern as he drifts into drunken Neverland.

  Lawson sits on the sofa, so small under him it could be a chair. “You probably want to check on your girl,” he suggests.

  Jealous because his work is done and mine is very well just beginning again, I follow the sobs down the short hall, through the bedroom, and into the microscopic bathroom that was forgotten in the home makeover. I hadn’t seen an avocado colored toilet or sink since my great grandma died, and it’s plain to see why they stopped making them.

  Fully clothed, Meggie sits in the dry, clawfoot tub and hugs her legs, occasionally breaking her sobs with gargled sniffs. She’s even paler with the peach wall as her backdrop. I park myself on the black and white checkerboard tile and mirror her position, ready to jump into action when her sobs become too much for my heart to handle.

  The rust stains on the outside of the tub hold my attention while anger boils inside me. Meggie cries herself into exhaustion, eventually drifting away in sleep. I remind myself that this is necessary, though I can’t find a single reason convincing enough to believe it.

  8. I’m going to kiss you

  The next day is even worse than I feared. Already, the funeral arrangements are catastrophic. Even Max, who’s been as emotional as an ice cube, is now a wreck. Whitfield performs almost as many blocks as Lawson and I do. Her freckles are no longer glowing.

  Between blocking and refusing to acknowledge me, Elliot isn’t fairing so well either. I hate to say it, but I’m glad he is exhausted. When he had the energy to talk to Whitfield and Lawson in the parking lot, the atmosphere was more than a little awkward for me.

  Brody, doubly hit by the after-effects of his binge, doctors his hangover by popping a pill every time Lawson blocks him. For all I know, that may actually be the order Lawson is giving.

  Needless to say, I’m thrilled to be wrapping up in Death City, a.k.a. the funeral home. I dread coming back here tomorrow and the next day for the big event and I try not to think about why the caskets will be closed.

  Back at the house after Max, Ryan, and Nancy leave, Brody apologizes to Meggie for the tenth time about his behavior the night before. He could have stopped after the first time because it was obvious Meggie had already forgiven him. I’m glad about that. The two need each other now more than ever.

  With help from Janine, they trudge through the painful task of sorting through shoeboxes of Meggie’s mom’s photographs for the funeral visitation. Seeing photos of a family so happy and alive is difficult for me and they’re not even my kids. I turn my head away more than once to conceal my silent tears from Lawson.

  My buzzing calimeter makes me jump in the mostly quiet room. I relax when Meggie, Brody, and Janine freeze, because even though Meggie won’t notice the lapse, she gets to be frozen in time just like her children and her mother for a short while.

  On the training field, Billy isn’t so cocky, keeping his gaze straight ahead when I approach the group. In contrast, Evelynn’s attitude hasn’t changed. She’s already brushing against my side and trying to catch my attention with her dark eyes; a gesture she probably uses often to keep all eyes above her neck. A proper shirt would have the same effect.

  I step close to Trina, who saves me by positioning herself between Evelynn and me. Trina smiles up at me when I mouth the words, “Thank you.”

  “I’ll work with Grant today,” Evelynn says before Jonathan even tells us what we’re doing.

  This is the closest Jonathan’s probably ever come to rolling his eyes. “Fine.” He waves his hand in th
e air as if to move us along.

  Trina appears apologetic and shrugs before I walk, very slowly, across the field.

  Evelynn’s smile beams like a laser—glint—while we cross to an empty place on the lawn. The sparkles on her pink, painted-on dress are blinding when she moves and she somehow manages to keep her five-inch heels from staking into the ground. She must be feeling conservative, leaving the seven-inchers at home.

  “Ready?” she asks, still grinning ridiculously huge.

  I internally cringe.

  “I’ll block you, all right?” she continues when I don’t answer.

  The last thing I want is to have her inside my head, but I’m too exhausted to argue. Regret for not coding weighs on me until I think about my scars.

  “Come after me.” Oh jeez, her expression is a wicked one.

  I shake my head. “I can’t do that.”

  “Oh come on, I can take it.”

  I continue shaking my head.

  “Fine. How about a hug?”

  My brow raises. “How about I go to the left,” I state, not as a question.

  Evelynn considers, sounding a little defeated. “Fine.”

  I start to walk to the left when her voice chimes the order, “Haze.”

  A curtain of ice-cold blackness engulfs me, but it dissipates as fast as it came. In its wake is an urge so great I pull in a sharp breath.

  A spotlight is on Evelynn and I’ve never wanted anything more than to kiss her. How had I managed to be this close to her without doing it sooner? Her full-lipped smile is impossible to deny: she wants me, too. Do it! Kiss her now before you lose your chance, you fool!

  No! My voice screams its rebuff against itself and the battle in my head ensues.

  Kiss Her!

  No!

  Kiss her!

  No!

  Kiss her!

  “No!” This time my voice yells out, severing the internal argument. My sight is veiled in the same blue as my blocking filter. “You’re not playing fair,” I say angrily.

  “A girl’s gotta try.” She’s all innocence now as the blue filter fades from my vision. “How strange,” she half-whispers to herself. “Let me try again.”

  I worry about what else the diva has up her sleeve, but doubt I can persuade her otherwise, so I reluctantly agree.

  She raises her eyebrow. “You want to attack me now?”

  I can’t help but laugh. “No. Not even now.”

  “Fine. May as well go left again.”

  I begin my walk to the left and when she says the order, I smack into a frigid, black wall. Chills run across my skin, but retreat as fast as the wall itself, as if neither ever happened.

  Evelynn is nearly glowing, as everything surrounding her has darkened. She’s always been hot, but dang! It should be illegal to look so good. I bite my lip thinking about all the ways I’m going to ravage her. I’ll start at her lips, but there’s no telling where I’ll go from—

  No! These are not my thoughts! In fact, these couldn’t be further from them.

  Kiss her! my voice insists, smaller than before but no less unsettling.

  I snap out of the stupor. No!

  When my translucent blue clears from my sight, I regain my composure. “It’s not going to happen, Evelynn.”

  She’s obviously hurt, but before I can feel badly, her expression morphs into anger. “Go left!”

  I match her tone. “No! No more. You can’t force me to kiss you.”

  Her eyes darken even more. “Billy forced you to twirl like a ballerina.”

  “It’s my turn.”

  Her cold expression turns to a toddler-like pout. “Fine. I’m going to kiss you.”

  Is this girl for real?

  She’s sliding her tongue across her teeth when my order comes out. “Haze.”

  Don’t kiss me, don’t kiss me, don’t…

  The pain of the electric current holds me hostage. I force my paralyzed brain to think. If I don’t hurry, the pink disco ball is going to be planting one on me and, by her expression, it’s going to be an X-rated version.

  The magic word completes the cycle. The waterfall that connects us evaporates to droplets that bounce on the grass before disappearing. I have to turn my face to keep her nose from touching mine.

  When she takes a step back, her heel actually does stake into the ground. She smiles, but not warmly, and shakes her long, pink fingernail at me. “You’re good.” She pauses, but keeps her eyes on me. “Try me again.”

  “I assume your going for the same approach?”

  “Mmm. I’m that predictable, huh?”

  Sigh.

  I give the order and in half a second my mind is made up. She and Billy refuse to play nice. Why should I?

  Her mouth is close to mine after I complete the circuit. I fight the instinct to step back when she exhales her minty breath in my face. Her dark eyes, surrounded in pink glitter, move away from mine and she maneuvers herself around me. I turn and watch while her dress works with the sun like a pink reflector as she strides sullenly across the field.

  I assume Billy has just blocked Reed, unless Reed is accustomed to performing cartwheels on the lawn for no good reason.

  Evelynn jumps out of Reed’s way and reaches Billy, grabbing his shoulders and spinning the giant around. She smacks her lips against his almost loud enough for me to hear. When she goes even further by adding tongue, I have about as much luck stifling my laughter as Billy has keeping his wide eyes closed.

  When Evelynn finally releases Billy, she wipes her mouth with the back of hand and looks…satisfied. Billy’s eyes are impossibly larger.

  Catcalls and whistles erupt and Evelynn’s glassed-over expression melts away, leaving her alert. And angry.

  “You!” This is obviously directed at me.

  “Whoa!” My hands shoot up in surrender as she marches her five-inch heels in my direction. “Oh no! Uh uh. You’re the one who didn’t want to play fair.”

  “How could you!”

  “Don’t play with fire, Evelynn. And for the record, I’m not interested in anything more than being your friend,” I say firmly, hoping she’ll keep her tongue to herself in the future.

  Her mouth opens like she wants to say more, but then hinges closed before she takes off across the lawn.

  Jonathan is so smug he may as well be nodding in approval. He claps his hands together once. “Well, team, why don’t we call it a day?”

  Billy, still frozen, is staring at the courtyard door as Evelynn goes through.

  On my way across the lawn, I do everything I can to keep my smirk hidden. Trina brushes by me on the curved pathway and winks. “Not bad.”

  “Dude, I owe you one!” Reed, coming up behind us, puts himself between Trina and me before smacking my back. “Did you see what that buffoon had me doing? I swear Billy is the worst.”

  I nod in agreement. “He’s definitely that.”

  “Cartwheels,” Reed mumbles. “How did you keep them out?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How’d you keep them out of your head?”

  “Oh. I’m not sure.”

  “Well, it’s impressive. If you ever figure it out, let me know.” He holds the door for me and I step through, wondering the same thing: how did I keep them out?

  Against my better judgment, I walk past Benson. I dump my bag in my room and try to stomp out my stress on the way down the hall. I have to do this, I remind myself, or my coiled muscles will snap.

  Parked on the mat, I close my eyes. Please, please, please let this be a normal session.

  The chains begin to release my tendons as I sit in my tree stand—my solace—and the feeling of relief justifies the risk. Falling deeper, my muscles may as well be cheering in victory by the time the monster buck enters the clearing. I haven’t felt this good since…ever. I needed this more than I realized. When my body feels like Jello, I open my eyes.

  U
h oh!

  A sharp inhale is replaced with a deep yell that roars through my old bedroom. It takes a minute for me to realize I’m the one howling in agony.

  The sensation of a freezing knife cuts through my torso. Around and around it goes, so cold it burns through my flesh. I’d thrash out against whatever was pinning me to my mattress if I wasn’t paralyzed. The cold dances up my neck until it consumes me. My brain is so strangled by the ice, I can’t even tell if I’m shivering.

  “I love you,” the freezing vapor says.

  My eyes pop open—for real this time—and I all but rip my skin off trying to remove my shirt. My breath gasps in and out of my lungs as I attempt to rub the stinging cold out of my scars.

  When my calimeter interrupts, I do scream. Well, half scream and half groan as I force myself up from the floor.

  I try to calm down, snatching the thickest sweatshirt I can find in the closet, and grabbing my bag. With tocket in hand, I mumble the word that will return me to Meggie, hardly noticing the fall because the chill is still swallowing me.

  I’m rubbing my chest and knee when I land. Meggie is right where I left her, on the floor with Brody and Janine, holding a photo of her kids; her happy, full-of-life kids.

  Why won’t my scars warm up?

  Meggie’s trying to persuade Janine to go home to her family, but Janine doesn’t do so until all of the photographs have been selected. When she leaves and my scars have finally gotten closer to room temperature, I pull the book out for my daily reading. Only a few blocks are required by Lawson and me through the night, and those are only for sobbing outbursts. It’s the next day that makes Lawson and I pay dearly for our break.

  At last count, I am up to fourteen blocks in the suffocating funeral room. No matter how I position myself, I can’t keep people from ghosting through me. The emotions running through the room are also weighing on me. The tears of the never ending line of spectators are enough to prompt the Great Flood and I’m shedding more than a few of my own. The only good thing about this day is that Meggie doesn’t know that her dad showed up. Brody gained my respect by excusing himself from the receiving line and quietly asking the man to leave, which her father surprisingly did without a fight.